When Our Sun Was Rising
by tywinning
Summary: A House Lannister Prequel
1. Chapter 1

_Author's Note: I don't really like the format on fanfiction DOT net. I much prefer to post on tumblr or Archive of Our Own. I like to include graphics with my stories, and fanfiction DOT net doesn't allow that. However, a user is stealing from me and posting my stories here as her own work. In the hope of trying to prevent her from doing that, I'm posting here. However, I encourage you to check me out at one of those other places, where the formatting looks nicer and there are pretty pictures!_

* * *

.

_"The brightest flame casts the darkest shadow."_

_._

* * *

Tywin was our sun.

He rose. Inevitably. In all his golden glory.

He carried us, this son of Lannister. High into the heavens, where dragons flew. Because of me. Because I would accept nothing less. Because he loved me.

I made him my husband.

Let us speak of the dawn of days, when our sun was rising.

Before we knew that a rising sun must fall just as far.

Before the great lions of the western hills were slain.


	2. Chapter 2

"…_the long summer of her childhood."_

* * *

Summer was all Joanna had ever known.

Not a Dornish summer that scorched the breath in men's lungs. Not a Northern summer, either, of hard, grey skies, and snows that waited in the shade, whispering of winter. Not even a Crownlands summer, where the air was wet and heavy and hard to breathe.

A Westerlands summer was her life.

As much as the hot sun beat down over Westeros, its harsh heat never conquered Casterly Rock. Mild breezes off the Sunset Sea left the air cool and comfortable. Fog rolled in off the water every morning and lingered over Lannisport until midday. The surrounding hills wore the colors of gold and red and saffron, adorned with splashes of poppies. Only the distant mountains to the east retained the vaguest memory of winter, high up on their snow-capped peaks.

The Lannisters were a large family, and many children were born to them in the years of that long summer. In the warm afternoons, these newly minted lions and lionesses ran barefoot over the soft sand, collecting driftwood that washed up on the shore. They used it to build holdfasts and play an old game under a bright blue sky. The idea was to take another's castle by wits alone, but the requisite patience was rare. Open melees usually ensued, making the nearby sea lions bark at their noisy little cousins. On many evenings, lords and ladies would descend from the Rock and set fire to their children's castles. The crackling bonfires took the chill out of the air and filled it with the savory smell of roasting meat. These were the long and lazy summer days of Joanna's early childhood.

A moon's turn after her fifth nameday, Joanna won the game against her older brother. Stafford refused to yield to her, however.

"You pay your debts well," Joanna told him bitterly and left him there with his pile of wood and his stick that served as a sword. She climbed up to the cliffs, breathless by the time she reached the top, but the ocean view wasn't nearly as impressive as the one from her bedroom window, high above the water.

She looked around, to see if there was anything remarkable to make all her effort worthwhile. Behind her was a little trail, nearly overgrown. With no desire to rejoin Stafford on the beach, Joanna pushed the branches aside and started down it. She walked for a long time, leaving behind the crashing waves in exchange for the solemnity of a sept. The windswept cypress of the headlands gave way to taller and taller trees, their name unknown to her. She could barely comprehend their trunks. If all the children on the beach joined hands and tried to form a ring around one, they would not even circle half of it. She wanted to find the biggest one.

Near a tree that must have been as tall as Casterly Rock, or so it seemed to a five year old, Joanna stopped short. One of her cousins walked quietly around its base. He ran his hand over its reddish bark, deep in thought.

The lady of Casterly Rock had been looking for Tywin all day, insisting that the other children inform her when they found him. Stafford had asked what he had done. The woman frowned. "My son was _born_ five years ago today. Honeyed duck, fish tarts, and strawberries in cream are all waiting for him, if I can ever _find _him."

Joanna watched him. _Surely he knows it is his nameday_.

For being the heir, Tywin did not _look_ very different from anyone else, with his golden hair and Lannister features. More serious, perhaps. Certainly more demanding. More highly praised by his intimidating lady mother. More indulged by his always-smiling lord father.

But there was something else that was different, something Joanna had never noticed until now, standing under these great, tall trees.

He seemed at home among the giants.

Joanna left Tywin there undisturbed.


	3. Chapter 3

_Beneath the gold, the bitter steel._

* * *

"Do you see how they sparkle, Joanna? That's every color that ever was."

Her father reined in his horse and pointed to the seven crystal towers of the Sept of Baelor. Joanna tried to look, but the gods' brilliance blinded her.

She considered the city instead. The shops, the palaces, the storehouses, and a thousand other buildings she couldn't name all of them crowded together, like a mob clamoring to reach the top of each of the three high hills of King's Landing. The setting sun at their backs bathed the city in reddish light, like the red stone of the Rock. The Red Keep was the reddest of all. Red towers, red ramparts, red battlements.

And above everything, red _dragons_, breathing red flames on great black banners that snapped in the wind.

Joanna now understood why her mother had given her handkerchiefs scented with lavender. She drew one out and pressed it to her nose as their party approached the Lion Gate.

Her father drew his horse near. "Are you afraid?" he asked quietly.

Joanna shook her head, wanting nothing more than to kick her horse into a gallop and ride through the press of people. He brushed a lock of golden hair back from her face as they waited for the way to clear. "You'll be alright," he said, more to himself than to her. "It is a great honor that you were chosen to be one of the Princess's companions. A great opportunity for you, as well. Rhaella's six too, you know. You'll be as close as sisters before the next moon."

Her father had already said this half a hundred times on their journey. She smiled up at him in reassurance. "I am not afraid."

"I know."

Joanna sat up straighter at his look of pride, and moved her horse forward. A sad lion carved from the same red stone as Casterly Rock stood guard beside the gleaming, bronze-plated gate. Joanna knew why its eyes held such sorrow. The roaring lioness that was his mate stood guard at the gates of Lannisport, at the end of the Gold Road. The stone carvers were cruel to separate them for eternity.

Joanna brushed her fingers against his mane as she passed. _It's alright. I'm here now._

He seemed to welcome her home.

* * *

In the heart of the Red Keep, her father said goodbye, a poorer man than when he started out. Joanna didn't notice the way his eyes shined wetly as he walked away. The princess a rare and precious gem unlike any Joanna had ever seen captured all of her attention. She was so much older than Joanna had expected, twelve, at least, but that hardly mattered. She was beautiful. Her thick raven locks were as black as the Targaryen banner, and her skin was so rich in color that Joanna felt impoverished looking down at her own pale hands. The way the princess held herself, it seemed she did not know how to bow. The little lioness barely even saw the girl with hair of a baser metal than her own.

The princess's septa loudly cleared her throat, and Joanna hurried forward to give her most perfect curtsy, hoping to dispel any further criticism. Someone gasped. Holding tightly to her father's warning to wait for permission to rise, she was startled when gentle hands pulled her to her feet and linked arms with her, escorting her over to the other girl. The dark beauty knelt, drawing Joanna down with her, and addressed the impish child with silver hair and smoky violet eyes. "Your Grace, Princess Rhaella, with your kind permission, may I introduce the Lady Joanna of House Lannister."

Joanna felt her face burn with embarrassment at her mistake. Rhaella approached and lifted her chin with a finger, inspecting her the way her father examined horses he wished to purchase.

"What an ugly little thing. She must be quite stupid, as well, to have confused me with Ariella Martell."

Joanna's face burned again, this time with rage. She almost rose and left, ready to walk down the Gold Road on foot, if she could not catch her father as he departed. Only his certain disappointment forced her to remain kneeling on the floor.

Rhaella turned away, as if Joanna had ceased to exist. "Septa Myrielle, when will the Hightower girl arrive? I expect she will be most entertaining. My mother promised…"

_A great honor a great honor a great honor_, her father's words repeated over and over in her head like a prayer, shutting the other people out so thoroughly that she was startled by the tug on her arm, making her look up. Rhaella was following her septa out of the room, and Ariella was standing over her.

"You aren't ugly." The Dornish girl smiled kindly at her. "You weren't wholly mistaken, either, you know. I am a princess, too, heir to Dorne."

"I _know_." She rose to her feet. The older girl was taller, and Joanna still had to look up at her to meet her dark brown eyes, but she had bent her knees before princesses enough for one day. "I was only ignorant of your appearance. I'm not _stupid_. No matter what she says." Joanna's eyes bored through the heavy oak door through which the princess had departed. "I hate her."

"Don't say that," Ariella told her softly. "Don't ever say anything in this city."

"Why not?"

"Because everyone is listening. Everyone is watching, too. Hunting. Waiting for you to slip and fall. King's Landing is more dangerous than the Kingswood."

"Why aren't you hunting, then?" Joanna asked, suspicious. "Why did you fall at her feet beside me, instead of preying on me?"

"Because the sun has no need to hunt, as other beasts do." Ariella watched the door, wary. _Of listeners?_ The thought made the hairs on Joanna's neck rise and made her teeth clamp tightly shut, but the princess continued on in a quiet, unconcerned tone. "And because I feel sorry for her. One day I will rule a kingdom in my own right. Rhaella Targaryen never will. Even if she becomes a queen someday, no power will ever be given to her. That makes her greedy for it, even now, when she is so young. That is why she treated you poorly. Not because she is cruel, but because you hurt her. Because you denied Rhaella her moment of power when you ignored her and curtsied before me instead."

"I don't care," Joanna whispered.

"Permit me to give you some advice, my young friend. Smile and play her games. Give her what she wants. Your life will be easier for it." Ariella looked at her pityingly then. "You shouldn't hate her. Rhaella will be some man's chattel her whole life long. The same as you."

"No." Joanna didn't know what _chattel _meant exactly, but she knew she didn't want to be anything someone pitied. "That will never be me."

* * *

Very early the next morning, Rhaella led her two companions to the Throne Room. As they crept along the length of the cavernous hall, dragons peered down at them from eyeless sockets. Some were pathetic, misshapen things, smaller than the hunting hounds at Casterly Rock; Joanna did not look at them long.

But the largest skull…. She knew its name from the singers: Balerion. The Black Dread. It was a creature of terrible beauty. It was not to be trusted. She watched Balerion out of the corner of her eye as Rhaella mounted the steps to the Iron Throne. Ariella followed boldly after, but Joanna remained at the foot of the steps, studying this twisted, metal chair she had heard so much about. It was a giant's chair, she decided, just as Balerion was a giant's dragon.

Rhaella looked like a delicate porcelain doll as she beckoned Ariella to sit beside her on the throne. Her tiny voice echoed. "Now, we shall be the queens, and we shall rule all of the Seven Kingdoms."

As the princesses began to list their royal decrees, Joanna began to climb up to join them.

"No, Joanna," Rhaella told her firmly. "You can't."

"Why not?"

"'Why not, _Your Grace_.' I am the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms."

"Why not, Your Grace?" Joanna already didn't like the way this game was played, no matter what Ariella had told her.

"Because you aren't a princess." _Because the sky is blue. Because water is wet._

"Joanna is a princess," Ariella spoke up. "Look at her, Rhaella. Look at the way she carries herself. Look at the fire in her eyes."

"She _isn't_. Her grandfather was only a Great Lord, and her father isn't even that."

The Dornish girl continued to protest. "That isn't a good reason. Let her come up, Your Grace."

"She may not sit with us." Rhaella pointed. "Go back to where you were, Joanna."

Joanna turned and descended without a word. She walked back to where she had stood … and kept walking, her head held high. She pretended not to hear the Targaryen princess calling after her.

Joanna was forced to pay for her impertinence by spending the night on her knees, on the rough, stone floor of the Sept of Baelor. When the girls played the game again the next morning, Ariella shrugged apologetically as Rhaella pointed to a spot on the floor far below, where Joanna could sit. Joanna stood instead, fighting to keep her eyes open despite her exhaustion.

The third day was different. Ariella took Joanna by the hand and began to escort her up to the throne. Rhaella stayed at its base, hands on her hips, loudly voicing her displeasure. "Ariella, I told you, she isn't a princess. She can't be a queen."

The Dornish princess looked back over her shoulder and smiled down in triumph. "Of course she can't be a queen, Your Grace. But every great queen needs a Hand to help her rule. You and I are great queens, surely?"

"Well … yes…." Rhaella was caught in her own game.

"Then we _must _have Joanna as our Hand." Ariella looked at Joanna. "Joanna, will you please serve as our Hand? The Kingdoms will fall to ruin if you refuse."

"Why are you doing this?" Joanna whispered as they climbed.

"I have a certain respect for those who defy dragons, my young friend. Some people will never be conquered, and Rhaella needs to learn to ally with them instead." Ariella paused. "Are _we _allies? You and I?"

"No," Joanna told her. Ariella narrowed her eyes, but Joanna went on. "We're sisters."

"Good. If we're sisters, then you're a princess too."

When Rhaella finally joined them, she directed Joanna to a place behind the throne, as if to pretend she wasn't there. Joanna didn't mind for the moment. The throne fascinated her. She reached out to touch it, wondering which of its blades belonged to her ancestor. Loren Lannister had been a king, before the Targaryens came. _She _could have been a princess, if not for the dragons.

Ariella was suddenly at her side, pulling her hand away. "Don't. You'll cut yourself on that."

"Shouldn't you be seated beside Rhaella?" Joanna asked bitterly, under her breath.

"I haven't wanted to sit on this ugly thing since the first day. After you stormed out, Rhaella cut her hand and bled all over her dress. If Septa Myrielle hadn't been so angry with _you_, the princess would have been hard pressed to-"

"_WHAT ARE YOU DOING, RHAELLA?"_

"No." Ariella's eyes widened. "Aerys." She hurried to help the princess down, while Joanna stood off to the side, watching impassively. The prince looked close to her own age, tall and beautiful … and furious.

"What is this, Rhaella?"

So confident only moments before, Rhaella stood meekly before her older brother with downcast eyes.

"What were you doing on grandfather's throne, Rhaella? _Answer me_."

Rhaella's silence only enraged him further. Joanna licked her lips as Aerys grabbed his sister's arm and twisted it viciously.

"_Stop! You're hurting her!_" Ariella rushed over to the princess, but not before there was a loud crack that made Rhaella fall to the floor, screaming, an answer that finally seemed to please the prince.

Then the Targaryen prince turned on the Dornish princess. "How dare you command me?"

Joanna darted over and linked arms with her new sister, and together they stood against a dragon to save the damsel on the floor. Something foreign and unrecognizable flickered in Aerys's eyes amidst his rage. The little lioness thought perhaps she should be afraid, but there was no fear in her. She lifted her chin and held firmly to Ariella, waiting for him to strike them.

And then something strange happened.

Aerys looked at Joanna and seemed to forget everyone else. He lifted her chin to study her as Rhaella had done just days before. His face was so close to hers that she could feel his breath, hot and heavy against her face. Joanna stayed as still as stone, listening to Rhaella crying quietly below her, but her eyes burned with hatred.

"Like wildfire." Aerys stared, entranced. The fire of his fury died down to glowing embers, but every so often Joanna could see tiny flames of that foreign, twisted thing flare up inside him.

Aerys looked away before Joanna had even considered it, addressing his sister. "Get out. Never sit on that throne again."

When Aerys left them, Ariella glared at Joanna before wrapping Rhaella in her arms. Worried that she had displeased her friend somehow, Joanna joined her in helping the princess up, and Rhaella leaned on the two of them as they led her away.

"Thank you both." Rhaella looked at each of them in turn. "I'm sorry you had to meet him like that, Joanna. My brother is quite charming. Truly. He just has a bit of a temper." She cried and smiled at the same time in a way that was painful to look at. "I'm sorry for how I treated you, Joanna. I'm glad you're my friend, and that you would fight for me."

Knowing that Ariella was watching her, the smile came easily to Joanna's lips. The lie was even easier. "Of course I would fight for you. But at the moment, we're going to find you a maester. You look as if you're in quite a great deal of pain. I don't like seeing people suffer."

* * *

While Rhaella slept soundly in the grip of a few drops of nightshade that evening, Ariella sat brushing Joanna's hair in cold silence.

The younger girl cried out at one particularly vicious tug. "_You're hurting me!_"

Ariella continued on as if she hadn't heard. "Do you know what the cry of the Golden Company is, Joanna?"

"No. Why should OW!" Joanna turned and wrestled the brush out of Ariella's hand and began to run it through her hair herself. "Why should I care?"

Ariella met Joanna's glare with one just as fierce. "Why did you just stand there today? You clearly weren't afraid of Aerys. Yet you just stood aside, until the prince came toward me."

"Please forgive me." Joanna reached out and tried to take Ariella's hand. "I had no wish to upset you."

"_That's not the point_!" Ariella pulled away roughly. "Rhaella was screaming on the floor, and you didn't care! It didn't matter that she slighted you in her _stupid _game! You should have cared about her! You should always care!"

_I care about you._ That wasn't the correct answer, though. "I do care." She reached for some sweet song to sing that would satisfy Ariella. "I care very much. About both of you. I was wrong to say what I did about her, that first day. I stood aside merely because … I didn't know what to do at first. I felt paralyzed. Then … when you stood up to Aerys, I realized that we could work together. What does it matter, anyway, except how it ended? We made Aerys leave."

"Is Rhaella your sister, Joanna, as I am your sister?"

"No." Some things couldn't be lied about.

Ariella sighed. She took the brush back, and went to work on Joanna's golden curls again, this time more gently. "What am I going to do with you, Joanna, my little sister?"

"What are the words of the Golden Company?" she asked quietly.

"Look them up yourself, if you care enough. They are your own."

* * *

On a day so hot the air shimmered at his passage, a Stranger introduced himself to Joanna, beginning their lifelong affair. Like a suitor on bended knee, he presented her with his greatest gift, one that would change her life forever. Joanna was unmoved, though.

"The maesters say it was a black growth in her heart," Septa Myrielle announced. "You will write to your lord uncle and each of his children to offer sympathy for your lady aunt's death, Joanna."

"But Kevan and Gery can't _read _yet. I'm not sure if Genna is old enough either."

"It's the thought that counts, child." The septa flashed her a smile that was no smile at all.

Careful to keep her cousins in her thoughts, Joanna persuaded Rhaella and Ariella to share the task to save her time. When they were done, she gathered the six letters together in a pile and hurriedly scrawled a name on each before sealing them with bright red wax.

She never knew who penned the letter Tywin received.


End file.
